Antrilin
by Black Rien
Summary: The tale of a less than likely Dovahkiin. Meet Antrilin...


Disclaimer:  
I do not own The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim or profit from writing this in any way, shape, or form.  
The Elder Scrolls series is the property of its respective owners.  
This is Fanfiction and, therefore, written only for my own amusement, and the enjoyment of whoever reads it.

Summary:  
The tale of a less than likely Dovahkiin…  
Meet Antrilin.

* * *

Antrilin

Chapter 1; _'As luck would have it'_

* * *

_Dovahkiin, Dovahkiin _**-** Dragonborn, Dragonborn,

_Nall Ok Zin Los Vahriin _**-** By his Honour is sworn

_Wah Dein Vokul Mahfaeraak Asht Vall _**-** To forever keep Evil at Bay

_Ahrk Fin Norok Paal Graan _**-** And the fiercest Foes rout

_Fod Nust Hon Zindra Zan. _**-** When they hear triumph's Shout.

_Dovahkiin, Fah Hin Kogaan Mu Draal. _**-** Dragonborn, for your Blessing we pray.

* * *

No one plays fair, that much is always certain in life. No matter who you are or what you do or what kind of life you lead, there is always something horrible waiting for you somewhere along the line.

As for me, that rule applies doubly so. How was I supposed to know what fate had in store for the legendary _Dovahkiin_? That you wake up, find yourself bumping along in a cart, hands bound, with three other men that you don't know.

That was how my story began…

* * *

"Look who decided to wake up."

The mocking voice made me scowl, my head lolling back on my shoulders as my eyes blinked open, "Where am I?"

The burly blonde fellow across from me answered, "You're on your way to Helgen, with the rest of us."

I frowned, not remembering paying anyone to take me to Helgen, nor of any work that I had taken there. As a matter of fact, I could not remember it at all…

I brought my hand up to rub at a sudden pain in the back of my skull, when I noticed the binds around my hands. Then everything came back. I had been trying to cross the boarder, someone had shouted, everyone else around me rushed forward, then, nothing. And there had been myself, standing dumbstruck in the fray.

I sighed, closing my eyes tightly and knitting my brows together. It was truly pathetic to have been captured so easily…

The other dark haired man on the other side of the cart rambled on, seemingly in an argument with the blonde one, "Skyrim was just fine until you Stormcloaks came along. The empire was nice and lazy. If not for you, I'd have gotten away with that horse and been half-way to Hammerfell by now."

A Stormcloak, a horse thief, and some other, heavily bound man, all in the cart with me. I had a sinking feeling that this cart ride wouldn't end well.

The man beside me looked familiar, but I never truly paid attention to faces, not any that belonged to Nords. They all looked alike to me. The cart jostled as we passed under the archer's bridge. Soldiers everywhere, stomping back and forth, swords dangling from their belts.

I wondered absently if I still had my knife nestled in my boot…

My gaze was taken away from the _admiring _crowd when the cart began to slow. Dressed in black leather, face almost completely hidden, was a muscular executioner, long axe in hand. My heartbeat sped up, and I turned my head away.

When the cart came to a full stop, we were all shoved brusquely out of the cart and called up to the captain, a stern looking woman who glared at all of us. How I wanted to glare back…

Well, I supposed since I was going to die anyway, it couldn't hurt. I straightened my back and set the foulest expression on my face, looking at the woman like she was nothing more than a squashed roach. I was pleased to see by the look on her face, that she didn't care too much for that.

_Sorry, but today's the day not to give a damn._

The man beside her looked more complacent as he called out names. Ralof of Riverwood, an unknown. Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm.

_So that's who you are_, I pondered with a nasty smile,_ Never did care too much for you._

And the horse thief, Lokir of Rorikstead. Of course he protested, "I'm no rebel! You can't _do_ this!"

Off he ran, hands bound in front of him. I knew he wouldn't get far, and I was right. The captain called for the archers, and they drew their bows, arrows flew mercilessly into the thief's back and he fell, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

I wondered which would be worse, a back full of arrows, or the chopping block?

Then they called me, "Who are _you_?"

Oh, the disdain in his voice. I wanted to rip his throat out, "Antrilin," I told him simply.

The man frowned then, turning to the captain, "Captain, this one isn't on the list. What should we do?"

"Put him with the rest of them."

Never mind, her throat would do nicely…

_Imperials executing elves, what is the world coming to?_

Hands grabbed my arms from behind and pushed me towards the others. I stood facing my own death. Out of all the ways I had imagined dying, this was certainly the last to cross my mind.

A roar echoed in the distance, giving the soldiers pause. It could have been anything, a tree felled by giants, perhaps, or maybe someone had had the misfortune of running into a Frost Troll. One of the rebels was the first on the block. He grinned up at the executioner, "My ancestors are smiling at me, Imperials! Can you say the same?"

And the axe swung down. His head fell into the basket as the executioner kicked the body aside. Absolutely no respect for the dead…

"Next! The High Elf!"

The roar again. I settled my mind, _A few Frost Trolls, then_, and stepped up to the block. The executioner's hand on my shoulder forcing me to my knees. I barely resisted as my knees hit the earth, praying to whatever gods would hear me for if not a painless death, then a swift one.

But no, of course not. Things are _never_ that easy…

I heard screaming and then, as the axe's shadow fell over me, my expression went from impassive to confused. The tower behind the executioner had something on top of it. If I could have moved at all, my head would have tilted to reflect the state of confusion I felt.

I had nothing but water to drink the past few days, so I was most assuredly sober. If that was the case, then _why was a dragon on top of that tower?_

I was spared any answer as it looked down from its perch and roared, almost right in my face, toppling the executioner and temporarily blinding me. I braced my hands on the ground, my vision blurred, and pushed myself to my feet.

Everything was burning, people, corpses, littering the streets of Helgen.

I heard the blonde Nord from before calling to me from the doorway of the tower far to my right. Further away was an Imperial soldier, rallying everyone possible into another standing tower. And then I saw the dragon, its leathery wings beating as it landed in the streets, steely golden eyes seeming to stare at me through the smoke and dancing fire. Being the self-preserving man that I am…

_I turned tail and ran as far out of Helgen as my legs would carry me, the unfortunate people still shouting loudly at my back as I passed through the stone arch and kept running… I never looked back once…_

* * *

As much as I would have loved to put the entire dragon episode behind me, it seemed as if all of Skyrim felt differently. No matter where I went, no matter who they were, everyone had the word 'dragon' on their lips.

I had eventually made my way to Whiterun, having long since sidled my small knife from the base of the tattered boots that I wore, and cut myself free, holding the knife between my boots as I sawed through the rope.

The city was on edge, withing every corner, people cowered. Some of the stronger looking folk began to carry swords and axes through the streets.

I only stayed long enough to purchase some provisions, the funds the courtesy of a lonely bandit I had ambushed in the woods, as was my current attire. The bandit's hand-axe swung at my belt, and while I wasn't much for those types of weapons, I would take what I could get.

I had just spent the last of the few coins I had looted from the aforementioned bandit, when two sets of hands grasped my shoulders. I turned only to come face to face with two guards. The one on my right spoke first, "You'll be coming with us, by order of the Jarl."

I blinked in confusion and tried to slip out of their grips, but they only grabbed me tighter, "I think you have the wrong person," I told them lightly, hoping to dissuade them.

The guard to my left slowly rested his free hand on his sword, "You can come with us nice and easy, or we'll drag you to Dragon's Reach by your heels," he said, fingering the hilt of the weapon.

I with-held a sigh and nodded, allowing them to guide me up to the Jarl's palace in full view of the gawking crowd. I ignored them as best I could, hoping that whatever business the Jarl had of me would soon be resolved as a simple case of mistaken identity.

After all, I wasn't very high on the wanted lists, and who could have survived Helgen to tell of me?

* * *

I stood, stiff as a board, when I was brought up to the Jarl. However, it was not his presence that froze me, but that of the Imperial soldier at his side. The man at Helgen who had been trying to protect its citizens. The man who would have had me killed…

"This is the one?" the Jarl asked, looking over me in a way that I found most unpleasant.

The Imperial nodded, "Yes, Jarl Balgruuf."

The Jarl addressed me next, "High Elf," his voice grumbled, "You were a survivor at Helgen, yes? What of the dragon? Where did it go and where did it come from?"

The _gentle _prodding of the guards forced me out of silence, "Yes, it is true I survived Helgen, but I have no idea as to where the dragon went after it was finished with the town. It seemed to come from the high southern mountains. That is all I know."

I thought my business was finished, but I had been wrong many times in my life. This was just another one of those times.

"Very well," he said, turning to the Dark Elf at his side, "Irileth, prepare a group of soldiers near Riverwood. It's much too close to Helgen, and surely the dragon would agree. Hadvar, you and the elf are to take the southern pass and warn Falkreath of the danger. Understood?"

I do believe I sputtered then, for the fact that the Jarl thought I was suddenly a dragon expert. But before I could voice my opinion, the Imperial was suddenly at my side, bowing before the Jarl, "Of course, my Jarl, we will see to it."

I was halfway dragged out of the palace by the man named Hadvar, through Whiterun, and down to the stables. Hadvar mounted a very flightly looking mare and trotted towards where I waited by the stable keeper's house, a hand on the hilt of his sword, "Follow me, elf," he informed, "Or do not. If you choose not to accompany me, however, I will kill you where you stand."

'_Well, you don't leave me much of a choice,' _I thought bitterly, but nodded anyway. I would not lose my head after having a dragon save it. Maybe that was luck, the gods finally looking in my favour, or maybe it was coincidence.

Either way, it sounded like a foolish children's novel, in which an unlikely hero undergoes miraculous circumstances and lives happily ever after. I sighed and followed along behind the man, obviously not trusted enough to be given a horse.

We traveled west, along the mountainside, on our way to Falkreath.

I had no idea what I had gotten myself into…

* * *

A/N: Yay, I've wanted to do this since I first played Skyrim,  
but I never had the time...  
Oh well, here it is. Such a sarcastic little High Elf, I have...  
And yes, I do have the entire opening written out in 'Dovah' and  
English... I'ma nerdy birdy.

This is the first time I've used this account in quite awhile...  
Also, hats off. Remember-

(September 11, 2012)


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